


In Midst of Winter

by clarityhiding



Series: Through All Manner of Seasons [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Vikings, Cabin Fic, Hurt/Comfort, JayTimBINGO2019, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Rutting, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-11 03:55:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20539700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clarityhiding/pseuds/clarityhiding
Summary: After being separated from his hunting party in the middle of winter, Jason is sure he's screwed—until help comes from an unlikely quarter. Through trial and error, he finds a new friend and possibly something more.





	In Midst of Winter

**Author's Note:**

> It's a prequel to my other AOB viking AU, 'On Eve of Summer' for Week 6: A/B/O of JayTim Month(ish)! <strike>No, I was not already kinda-sorta-maybe writing this when the prompts/themes were decided, why do you ask?</strike> Thanks again to chibi_nightowl for the excellent beta, particularly since I know this trope isn't really her cup of tea. <3

Since he's less than a week out from his last heat, the rest of the hunting party not-so-subtly maneuver so that Jason's downwind from them, bringing up the rear. It's irksome—he's one of the best trackers in their clan, certainly the best in this particular group, he _should_ be at the front, leading—but he understands their reasoning. His normally subdued scent is no longer an overwhelming cloud like it was a few days ago, but it's still stronger than usual, and the last thing they need is for their prey to catch a whiff and be warned of their approach.

Still, none of that is a good excuse for the others to go on ahead when he ducks behind a tree to take a piss. He picks up their trail easily enough, but he shouldn't have to, and he doesn't doubt that this is a not-so-subtle hint on Dick's part that he thinks Jason shouldn't have come along on this particular hunt.

He's so busy grumbling about overprotective asshole brothers that it takes him several minutes to twig to the fact that he's no longer alone. When he does, he immediately goes silent, straining his senses in an effort to identify what part of the peaceful forest has changed. It can't be the rest of the hunting party—their comforting pack scents mean he doesn't even notice them most of the time, and when he does, he certainly doesn't subconsciously register them as threats.

The low growl sends a chill through his bones and has him scrambling for the nearest tree, jumping up to grab a low-hanging branch and scaling the rough trunk like Fenrir himself is nipping at his heels. A glance back once he's twenty feet up tells him his hyperbole wasn't that far off the mark. The beast below—no doubt the mankiller they've been tracking—is nearly twice his size, and he's one of the largest warriors in his pack.

He climbs higher still, until he's far enough up the tree that he daren't go any further, lest he risk branches too thin to hold his considerable weight. Down on the ground, the dark shape of the wolf paces back and forth, stopping occasionally to claw at the trunk and leave deep furrows in the wood. Despite the increased distance between them, the low growl from earlier has grown louder, easily reaching Jason's ears.

He would curse his cowardice at choosing to flee instead of stand and fight, but this beast is more than any one warrior could possibly hope to handle on their own. Not unless it was one such as the foreign princess they took in three winters back, who wields a burning spellfire as handily as she does a blade, and even then she might find the beast below a little more than she might choose to willingly engage.

The wolf throws himself at the trunk once more, causing the entire tree to shake, though no more than it does under the onslaught of the stiff winter breeze, already picking up and growing stronger, well on its way to being an all-out storm. High up in the swaying branches, Jason shivers and draws his cloak closer, pressing as close to the trunk as he can manage. He hopes the wolf will be scared off before the storm starts, that his fellows will notice his absence and double back before his tracks are wiped away by the wind and snow.

If not, well. He may have fled death at the claws of a wolf only to stumble into the jaws of winter instead.

* * *

"Hello up there! Are you alright?"

Jason jerks to attention and nearly falls from his perch, he's so startled by the unexpected greeting. Shaking off the snow that's settled on his cloak, he peers down and is surprised to see a stranger, not one of his hunting party as he expected. The snow around the stranger's feet appears undisturbed aside from the man's own tracks, and with a sick twist in his gut, Jason realizes he must have drifted off during the storm. He doesn't doubt that he came close to nearly dying from the cold, was probably only saved by the fact that he's only days out of his last heat and still running hotter than usual as a result.

"Hello?" the man calls again.

"Y-yes," he manages, face stiff from both the cold and the biting burn of the wind. "'m fine. C-cold."

"Were you up there for this last storm? You're lucky to be alive!"

The statement is such an obvious one that Jason doesn't even deign to answer. Instead, he turns his attention to the slow descent downwards. His hands are clumsy with cold, his joints stiff from remaining curled against the trunk for so long, and he barely makes it 15 feet before he loses his grip and crashes downwards through the intervening branches. Luckily, many are slender and do more to break his fall than bruise his bones. Between that and the thick snow bank he lands in, he survives the drop mostly unscathed aside from having the wind knocked out of him.

"Are you alright?!" There's the sound of awkward, hurried stomping and then—then a man is standing over him, the prettiest omega Jason has ever seen in his entire life. Slender and gorgeous, with bright blue eyes and hints of a strong, lithe body under all the layers of wool and fur.

More than a little dumbstruck, Jason stares, words currently beyond his feeble abilities. "Uh."

"Here, let me give you a hand up. You must be half-frozen, and that fall can't have helped any," the man says, grabbing first Jason's wrist and then his biceps, hauling him upwards in a surprising show of strength.

Stumbling, he ends up half-draped over his unlikely helper, easily towering over the slighter form. A form that has a disturbing lack of scent, something Jason is about to comment on when the pressure against his chest proves too much and he breaks into a fit of violent coughing.

"Easy there," the man says, rubbing his back and seeming unbothered by the task of keeping a man easily twice his size upright. "Wouldn't be surprised if you caught a chill, staying up there in that tree."

"Sorry," Jason manages once the fit seems well finished and passed. His throat feels raw and sore, but his chest feels a little lighter, somehow made better by the eruption.

"Don't be. Even the strongest warrior is made humble by the elements." The man hasn't stopped rubbing, and reluctant as Jason is to admit it, he's glad for that. It's not the calming embrace of his father or brother, but the touch is doing much to calm the quiet panic that's been pressing at him ever since he heard that low growl earlier and realized he was well and truly alone.

"Thank you," he croaks out, reluctantly straightening enough that the hand falls away from his back. "I'm Jason of the Bat Clan."

The man smiles, a beautiful thing that makes his face light up and brings out dimples in both of his cheeks, rosy pink from the cold. "It's very nice to meet you, Jason. I'm Tim of the—well. I guess I'm technically not—"

"—not in any position to be making eyes at strange omegas?" a new voice interrupts them, and Jason jerks away from Tim, quick to put the tree at his back and grab his sword from its sheath as he scans the area for the source.

A group of newcomers stand not twenty feet away. Their stances are aggressive and threatening, weapons in hand and teeth bared. The wind is blowing in the wrong direction for Jason to scent them even if his nose weren't completely stuffed up, but he doesn't doubt all three are alphas from the way they posture and snarl. Likely hunting the woods for the man beside him. He knows how it is, that many see omegas as clan property rather than people.

Tim starts forward, but Jason's arm immediately goes up, keeping him back as he raises his sword and bares his teeth. "You can just stay the fuck out of this."

One of the alphas—the largest in their little band, still at least an inch shorter than Jason himself—growls and brandishes his axe. "We could say the same of you. But it's not surprising, that a freak like you can't respect pack roles."

Jason's head may be stuffed up and his limbs stiff with cold, but he's never been one to tolerate posturing alphas who think pack hierarchy should be based on the bits in a person's pants and not the worth of their abilities. Still, he's not beyond playing with those stupid assumptions if it suits his needs. "If you think I'm a freak, you should see the alphas in my pack," he snaps back, his grin turning huge and sharp. "They're even bigger—why, I'm positively petite in comparison. But sure, come on over here and try and take us. I'm sure we can't possibly pose any kind of threat to three huge dickheads."

The lead alpha stands his ground, but the woman with him hesitates. It doesn't escape Jason's notice that she glances in Tim's direction, and something seems to pass between them both. She lays a hand on her leader's arm. "Z, come on. It's not worth stirring up trouble with another clan for one runaway."

"Chief wants him back," the third member of their band insists. "He's not gonna be happy if we return empty-handed."

"Ra's can want all he likes, but he doesn't have any claim over me," Tim says, shoving at the arm holding him back with his shoulder, trying to move forward. Glancing over, Jason sees he's got his spear in one hand, a long knife in the other. "I'm not a member of his clan and I never joined his pack, despite his underhanded attempt to force me."

The largest alpha, Z, hesitates. "Force you?"

"Locked me in the heat house with that poison-skinned sister of his right before the madness took. I had to break through the roof to get free."

Z lowers his weapon, an appalled look on his face. "The chief would never force his own kin to—He _wouldn't_!"

"Wouldn't he? To get what he wanted? It's not the first time he's tried to trap an outsider with a forced bond, and you know it."

"Wouldn't be the first time someone broke free, either," the woman chides her fellows.

"True…"

"If we come back empty-handed, it'll be on our heads," the third alpha protests. "_We_ were tasked with bringing you back. It's us who'll suffer the punishment if we fail, not you," he says, turning his attention towards Tim.

He looks torn, and it occurs to Jason that even if these alphas aren't of Tim's pack or clan, there is clearly _some_ connection between them. Perhaps even some sort of friendship. "There was a storm a short while ago. You were forced to seek shelter for the duration of it, and when you set out again, the trail was hidden, the scent lost," Tim tells the three hunters. "This is a strange land, and you had already ranged so far from the encampment, you thought it better to turn back than risk trespassing on another clan's territory with just the three of you."

"Z, you can't possibly think the chief will buy that—!"

"He raises a good point. And we are clearly close to the stomping grounds of other packs if we are encountering unknown warriors."

"An overgrown omega isn't—" There's a squeak from the third alpha, and he drops his bow in the snow, hopping on one leg to grasp the shin of his other. The woman straightens her spear once more and looks especially pleased.

"I'm a warrior of my clan," Jason growls. "And though I am not one of our strongest, I am still considered formidable by my fellows and more than worthy of their respect. Tim has helped me, and as such has earned the protection of my clan. If you wish to fight me to take him, you are welcome to. But be aware that even if you defeat me, you will have all my people on your backs, and it is doubtful you will make it back to your clan alive."

"It wouldn't hurt to also remember why it is Ra's is so keen on keeping me close," Tim adds. "You all three know I can take you down if I choose to. I'd rather not if I don't have to, but. Well. I'm _not_ going back."

Silence stretches for a good five minutes, broken only by the wind whistling through the trees as the two small groups stare at one another.

Finally, Z's shoulders slump, and he hooks his weapon back on his belt. "Come, the trail is lost, and we will have a hard journey back if we hope to return before the clan leaves us behind in this wasteland."

The third alpha starts to protest, but Z grabs his arm and yanks him along, tromping off through the trees. The woman is last to leave, lingering behind the other two. "Good luck, little dragon."

"Thanks, Pru. Do me a favor and look after the boy? I would have taken him along, but Ra's is twice as possessive of his kin as he is of his protégés."

She nods, leaning down to pick up her fellow's fallen bow. "I'll do what I can, though you know he won't like it. Maybe he'll follow you, someday. When he's grown."

"Maybe," Tim whispers. Then they're alone again, nothing to be seen all around but trees and snow and silence. He slides the long knife back into its sheath, then turns to Jason. "You just challenged an enemy you knew nothing about for a man who simply helped you gain your feet. That was stupid."

"You woke m-me in the tree. If n-not for that, I likely w-would have f-f-frozen," Jason stutters, his lips and tongue growing numb once more now that the rush of an anticipated fight is leaving and his body reminded of the aching cold. He tries to slip his sword back in its sheath, but his hands shake too hard, and he ends up dropping it in the snow instead.

"Shit, we have to get you out of this cold." Tim surges forward, catching up the sword to hook it through his own belt, then dragging Jason's arm over his shoulder. "How far is it too your clan's settlement?"

"Three-quarter day, with c-c-clear skies," Jason mumbles.

Tim glances up at the sky overhead and swears, apparently noticing for the first time that the lingering storm clouds have grown darker. "Too far, you'll never make it. C'mon, I have a place not far from here. We can probably make it before the storm starts, if we hurry."

Jason starts to nod, then stops, his head throbbing more than he can manage. "'Kay," he mutters. Leaning into the smaller omega, they trudge out into the winter.

* * *

The days that follow blur together, a confusing mess of sickness and sleep. There are vague memories of someone pressing cold compresses to his head, spooning hot porridge into his mouth. He doesn't remember much, except that he was positively certain his mother was the one caring for him at one point. Since that's impossible, he isn't sure how much, if any, of his memories he can trust.

The next time he's really aware of his surroundings again, he's pleasantly warm and a fire crackles nearby as someone moves about and makes noises in the background. It takes him several minutes to remember what happened, to recall the beautiful man who found him. Who found him while apparently on the run from a less-than-ideal chief alpha, then proceeded to take Jason's sword and lead him to some sort of hillside den.

Cracking an eye open, he tries to surreptitiously feel around the nest of blankets and furs he appears to be in, searching for some kind of weapon. He may find Tim undeniably attractive, may sympathize with the man's plight, but that doesn't mean he trusts him any more that he does any other stranger.

His scrabbling hand hits something hard and solid, and when he wraps his fingers around it, the familiar grip of his scabbard presses into his palm. Pulling the blade close, he pushes himself up into a sitting position and takes in his first good look at the refuge Tim led him to. The walls are mostly rock, the floor dirt, though it's been packed tight and swept clean of detritus. All illumination comes from the fire in the center which is clearly built more for heat than light.

"Oh. You're awake. That's, that's perfect, actually."

Jason's head whips around and he can just barely detect the outline of another person in the dark blackness that consumes the far end of the room. "What is this place?"

Tim shuffles forward, still staying at the edge of the light, keeping the fire firmly between them. "A cave that I found while running. I'm not used to the weather this far north, and winter came faster than I expected. I thought it better to hole up here than keep on, looking for people and possibly wandering to my death. I should have realized your clan was so close—I found cooking gear and other things in the back room."

This news jogs a memory in Jason and he relaxes somewhat, realizing where they must be. "It is used as something of a hunting camp in bad weather. We're a little under a day's journey from the Bat Clan, if you wish to travel there with me."

"That is good news indeed, though I doubt you are yet ready for such a long journey. You have been feverish for several days now, wandering in dreams and speaking to people not here."

He must have been ill before he ever climbed that tree, to still be feeling the effects so long after. Ill and unaware, the weariness brushed off by both himself and others as simply the lingering aftereffects of his most recent heat. "Did you nurse me through it all? I thank you, and beg you to join me when I return. My father will wish to reward you for your efforts."

"I have many enemies, as you are already aware. I doubt your chieftain will welcome such a person to his enclave, no matter whose son I helped." Tim smiles, slightly sad and more than a little self-deprecating.

"My father is both head of my pack and of my clan, and I am his second son. He believes in giving homes to those who would otherwise be without. As long as you do not shirk hard work and are willing to follow his code, he would welcome you with open arms, whether you'd helped me or not."

"And what code would that be? To seduce the innocent and keep them against their will? To enslave any reluctant alphas and omegas by way of their sex, forcing them to bond with those they could never love in order to keep them close? Bind betas incapable of such bonds through more visible means of shackles and insufficient food?" Tim snaps out, sounding so vicious and accusing that Jason flinches away from him, despite the fire still separating them.

"Nay, never. He is feared by his enemies, to be sure, but his code is to protect those who cannot protect themselves, lend aid when needed, and above all only seek a solution at the end of a blade when all channels of peace have been completely exhausted. What monstrous clan have you been part of, that you expect such awful treatment?"

"No clan, for my parents were travelers, merchants from the south. But my mother died while we were foreign lands and my father was not of strong enough metal to weather the traveling life without his mate at his side. When a powerful chieftain offered to allow us to live as a part of his clan, my father leapt at the chance, not realizing his mistake until it was too late."

Face half-hidden by shadows, Tim leans forward, stirring the porridge pot resting in the fire. "My father was more scholar than warrior or farmer, and did not live long under such grueling toil. I survived, but more due to the chief's unhealthy fascination with me. For his own reasons, he could not bed me, but that did not stop him from trying to force his sister on me and keep me by him that way. So while I have been part of no clan in my life, my time with the Clan of Shadows has left me wary of seeking a place with any others."

Against what is probably his better judgement, Jason releases his grip on his sword and settles both hands in his lap, open and empty and visible. "I am sorry you and your kin were treated in such a manner, but I swear that as long as you do not seek to hurt those he has sworn himself to protect, my father will never try to control you or force any judgement on you."

"I am glad to hear this. There were… whispers of the Bat Clan and its fierce leader amongst the Shadows. They spoke of a man of honor and duty, who protects even the weakest of his people with his very life. I will admit that I have long desired to meet such a person, to see him with my own eyes."

"Then you shall," Jason swears, more certain than ever that he must bring this sweet soul back to his clan, his family. "As soon as I am well enough, we shall travel there. I am certain it will only be a day or two at the most—I am rarely ever ill for long once I am on the mend."

"Ah, well. I would not be so sure of that. After all, sometimes there are things other than illness that can cause delay."

* * *

The next day, he wakes to find Tim fully dressed, carefully setting the covered pot of porridge on the dirt floor beside Jason's bed. He isn't sure where Tim's been sleeping—at first he assumed they were sharing the nest of blankets and furs to better conserve heat through the long winter nights, but he took to bed after Jason drifted to sleep the previous evening, and was not present the few times he woke during the night.

As soon as he registers Jason is awake, Tim hurries away again, catching up a small bundle resting against the far wall. "I… Something has happened, and I must leave for a time. I have left you with food and water both, as well as wood for the fire. If you do not see me by the time you are well enough to leave, it is probably best that you return to your home without me."

"You can't survive out in the wild all winter. There aren't nearly enough supplies stocked in here, even if you do manage to find some game. My clan isn't that far, wait and come with me." It's the least he can offer after Tim took the time to get him to shelter and nurse him back to health.

"We'll see. If you still want me with your clan." There's a closed-off look to Tim's eyes, and Jason wants to probe deeper, to learn what he means with such an odd response, but the sickness is catching up with him once more, overtaking him and sending him straight to sleep.

* * *

When he wakes, the fire is down to embers while outside the wind shrieks and wails, tearing at the woven mat that blocks the entrance of the cave. He is alone in the room. It would appear Tim didn't make it back from his errand before the storm hit.

It takes some doing, but he manages to get to his feet and haul himself over to the fire to add more wood and check on the slowly-simmering pot. It's more porridge, which he kind of expected. There's only so much that can be stored in this little way station without it going bad or vermin finding it. There's even less that can be fed to a sick man more asleep than awake. Of course, all that knowledge doesn't help him much when he's craving meat like crazy because of both his recent heat and all the weight he sweated off while lying abed.

There should be some dried meat tucked away in the back of the second room of the cave, where all the supplies and things are stored. Possibly Tim hasn't found it yet and it's still there, just waiting to be sliced and added to an otherwise bland meal of yet more barley porridge.

Mind made up, Jason fashions a crude torch from piece of firewood and heads to the back of the cave, carefully holding the fire out of the way as he shifts aside the woven mat mean to keep the heat in the main room.

He's certainly on the mend, because his nose is working once more and there's no mistaking the musky odor that assails him as soon as he steps into the room. "What the—?"

"Jason? Get out of here, you can't be around me right now." Tim's voice wavers slightly, sounding strained, though he has no idea if that's because of his current condition or the effort Tim's expending to stay on the floor and not throw himself at the omega in the room.

The sole omega, because there's no doubt in his mind what that smell is, what's happening here. "You're an _alpha_? What the fuck?!" How can this sweet, delicate man possibly be an alpha?

Tim cringes back in the flickering torchlight, curling in on himself. "You need to leave."

"You're in rut. You can't be left to go through that alone, your body can't take the abuse." Not that Jason's volunteering to stay or anything. He hasn't ever been all that keen when it comes to alphas in a romantic sense, always found the risk they presented too threatening for him to have any interest in actually pursuing them. Still, that doesn't mean he wants Tim to drive himself to illness, rutting unprepared.

"I have supplies, don't worry about me," Tim insists. "I'm only a few hours in, but it'll get worse, and I can't—I don't want to hurt you."

When Jason shifts the light closer, he sees that both Tim's wrists and ankles are bound with leather thongs, effectively hobbling him. "What in the world? This is ridiculous, you won't be able to take care of yourself like this." Jason draws his knife and leans forward, intent on slicing through the bindings.

"No, don't!" Tim jerks back, narrowly avoiding being sliced by the sharp edge of the knife. "If you take them away, I won't have any way to keep myself under control. I can't exactly lock myself away here."

Jason snorts and rolls eyes but gamely sheaths his knife once more. "You're an idiot. If you really want to hurt me, those won't do anything to keep you back."

"They'll at least serve as a reminder when I'm deep in rut."

"What kind of alpha are you that you can't keep your wits about you when you rut? Don't tell me you believe that bullshit that you're a slave to your cycle and have no responsibility for whatever you may do when you hit the peak?" He's encountered such talk among other clans when they gather for the Thing—alphas claiming they couldn't help themselves, they _had_ to take an omega because either one or the other of them were peaking.

"It's hard to resist the primal urge to—"

"Wow. _Wow_, I can't believe you buy into that crap. It's all alpha propaganda, you know. How they justify raping and smacking omegas around. Sure, it can be difficult to resist, but it's definitely totally doable—you of all people should know that, didn't you say your old head alpha locked you in a heat house and tried to force a bond? Obviously, you were able to resist the siren call of whatever omega he trapped you with."

"Well, that was—I mean, she hadn't really started yet, and I was never all that interested in her anyway, she'd never been my type. It wasn't exactly hard to resist."

That prompts another laugh from Jason, this one deeper. "Oh, and I would be." He's not a fool, he _knows_ that between his looks and his body, he's nowhere even close to the ideal of omega beauty.

To his great surprise, Tim cheeks turn a bright pink that borders on red. "Not everyone is attracted to the same thing," he mutters, refusing to meet Jason's gaze.

Oh. Well. "That's… certainly something I wouldn't say no to exploring," Jason admits, his own cheeks warming slightly. "But later, when we're back with my people. In the meantime, are you planning on hurting me?"

"Gods, no, never! Not unless you attacked me first!"

Jason nods, then carefully tugs the scarf free from his neck before reclining beside Tim. "You can go ahead and scent me, the omega smell should soften most of the rut symptoms. If you try to bite, I leave. If you actually _do_ bite, I will castrate you and leave you here to bleed out," he warns.

"That's… fair. You're sure you don't mind?''

"I wouldn't have offered if I minded. Remember, no biting. And if you try to touch me, I won't hesitate to put my knife in your gut."

He isn't sure if the warning is really heard since as soon as he pulls his hair away from his scent gland, Tim is right there, pressing in to inhale deeply. The eagerness is a little worrying, but he seems more than capable of maintaining control, carefully angling his body so that there's a good few feet between the bottom half and Jason.

After hesitating for several minutes, Jason finally rests a hand on Tim's head, cupping it against his neck. A full-body shudder runs through the alpha and then he goes limp, the earlier strain draining from him.

It's a heady feeling, having this much control over another person. Jason's done this before, helped his brother through ruts in the summer, when his mate was back home, swollen with child. He knows the scent of an omega can have a calming effect on others, but he's never seen it work so fast or so completely. His sister would likely say it's a sure sign of compatibility, and while it could be that, Jason suspects it's far more likely that Tim is just relieved to finally have someone he can trust after living on the edge for so many years.

* * *

It takes three days in all for the rut to run its course. After the first day, Jason releases Tim's wrists since it's a pain to feed him by hand, and there are certain needs that he refuses to see to, letting the alpha take care of those while he busies himself in the other room of the cave, cooking or stoking the fire.

Never once does Tim try to lay hands on him, though he quickly reveals himself to be a cuddler of the most serious sort, nearly on par with Jason's eldest brother. Tim carefully keeps his hands behind his back, but he presses his face into Jason's neck, his chest into Jason's side. It's not a kind of intimacy Jason's ever particularly sought out before—he himself usually prevails upon one of the omegas he's more friendly with during his heats, allowing the soothing scent to take the edge off much as he's doing for Tim now.

The experience is different and not nearly as unpleasant as he always expected it to be based on the half-remembered violence of his childhood that would frequently pass between his parents, back before his mother's husband passed and she with him not too long after.

By the end of the third day, Jason thinks he may be more of a mind than ever to pursue a possible arrangement with Tim once they are both in a more secure position. He's never been particularly interested in alphas before, has mostly found the ones outside his clan to be of a temperament too similar to his mother's husband for him to find any attraction there. Tim, though, is different. In spite of the unsavory practices of the clan he came of age in, he shows respect and affection similar to the alphas of the Bat Clan, with the added bonus of not being related to Jason in one or another convoluted way.

He wakes up close to midnight, feeling weirdly chilled. It's hard to see much of anything in the darkness of the back cave, the fire in the front room grown low over the last few hours, but he doesn't need light to notice there's no longer a warm body pressed up against his side.

"Tim? You out there?"

The shadow moving in front of the faint glow from the other room stills, and Jason sighs. "I know you're still there. Hurry up and finish your business so you can get back here. It's fucking _cold_."

"Then move closer to the fire."

Well, fair point. They can't have a fire in the back room—not enough airflow—and they couldn't sleep in the front room as long as Tim was in rut, his body producing a strong enough scent it was sure to draw unwanted attention of the four-legged kind. Grumbling to himself, Jason gathers up the bedding and trundles into the front room.

He stops in the connecting passage, staring. "Any reason you're all dressed to leave? There's hours yet until dawn, and I'm not keen on stumbling around in the dark," he says, trying to keep his tone calm, his voice even.

"What I did was unthinkable and a complete violation of etiquette," Tim says quickly, looking everywhere but at him.

"You didn't _do_ anything. You were a perfect gentleman," Jason says, completely bewildered by this reaction. "You didn't bite, you didn't touch—hell, I don't think you frigged yourself, even when I gave you privacy to do so."

"I wasn't—I shouldn't have needed your help at all. An unbonded alpha and an unbonded omega, alone together for a rut when they aren't even of the same pack or clan?" Tim shakes his head furiously, whirling around to slam the side of his fist into a cave wall. "It's unthinkable, I shouldn't have—"

"Hey, stop that!" Jason drops the bedding, loping across the room and catching Tim's wrist before he can repeat the movement. "You have nothing to be ashamed of. All you did was accept something that I willingly offered."

"You may have offered, but surely your family—"

Jason snorts. "My family knows me, they aren't about to take offense to the fact I went out of my way to help a good man in a bad situation. Plus, they know I'm not one to roll over and spread my legs without thought for any alpha who smells a little pungent."

"But… your reputation…?"

"Will be just the same as it ever was. Now, come on. Let's get a bit more sleep before the day begins. We have a long trek through the snow ahead of us come morning."

Tim resists for a moment longer, then relaxes and allows himself to be lead back and down onto the bedding. For his part, Jason pointedly ignores the part of himself that settles and preens, already feeling far more accustomed than it should be when it comes to falling asleep wrapped around another human being.

* * *

Stephanie is the first to see them, and she drops the bundle of wood she's carrying, sprinting across the snow to fling her arms around him. "You came back! We weren't sure you were going to, after Dick and the others were foolish enough to lose you in the snow."

"Ah, I hope no one worried too much. I meant to come back sooner, but ended up a bit delayed. Speaking of, is Bruce about? I've brought back another stray for him to take in."

"He went out with today's search parties, trying to find you. They should be back any time now, though," she tells him, glancing curiously around him at Tim, who's choosing now to act shy, hanging back.

"Tim, this is my sister Stephanie. She's mostly harmless and definitely doesn't bite," Jason says, reaching over to drag Tim forward. "Stephanie, this is Tim. He found me when I was being an idiot in a tree and then nursed my sorry sick ass back to health after."

She leans forward to welcome him, only to fall back, her nose wrinkling at the lingering musky scent around Tim. "Pah! Well, no need to ask what you two have been up to. I hope you at least had a good time."

Tim's face goes ghostly white and he flails. "I swear, I didn't—"

"Relax, idiot. She doesn't actually think we did anything—and even if she did, she wouldn't judge you for it. I told you, my family honestly doesn't care about things like 'proper etiquette.'"

"It's true, we're all animals here and proud of it," she says, because she lives to make Jason's life unnecessarily difficult. "Just ask Bruce—hey, Bruce! He wandered back on his own, and pulled a you! Though this one looks a little old to adopt."

Jason half turns at Stephanie's shout, a smile breaking across his face as he sees the familiar solid form of his father strolling down the nearby rise. He raises one hand in greeting, the other still firmly around Tim's arm, keeping him from going anywhere.

"_That's_ your father?" Tim squeaks. If anything, he goes even paler.

"I told you he was head alpha of my pack and clan. Don't let his size intimidate you—I have uncles who are even bigger, and they're all pretty much harmless as long as you don't threaten the pack." Glancing down, Jason smiles. "Don't worry. From what I've seen, you're going to fit in just fine."

**Author's Note:**

> [I have a tumblr!](http://themandylion.tumblr.com/) Come visit if you want ridiculous AU headcanons, rants about the English language (and/or educational publishing), history fangirling, adorable baby bats, and veeeeery occasional fanart. Also, because I am an actual human being with opinions of my own, sometimes I post or reblog things that reflect those opinions. If you can't handle the idea of someone existing in the universe and possessing opinions which differ from your own, you probably should not click on that link.


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